Angelina's Story
by heartdiver123
Summary: It all suddenly became too much for Dustfinger.  Before the tears started flowing, he took off at a sprint away from the camp, away from the Prince and his terrifying idea.  Most importantly, he ran away from those piercing blue eyes.
1. Prologue

**Okay, so before we start this, I would just like to point out the obvious—I am **_**not**_** Cornelia Funke. I don't own Dustfinger (sadly). Or the Prince. Or Cloud Dancer. Or the Adderhead. Or any other character in this book other than my original characters (Miranda and Angelina). I **_**wish**_** I owned them, but I don't. So there. Now, enjoy the story! :D**

Prologue

"So, Miranda, are you going to read for me or not?" The Adderhead's voice was sharp, the voice of a man who was losing his patience. Miranda had been denying him what he wanted for hours, despite the bribes, despite the physical and verbal abuse, despite all of his efforts. She had refused to read to him through all of this, telling him that she'd forgotten how, that she was blind. All lies to keep away the pain, all seen through as false. He still kept on.

"No, sir, I don't think I will. All this screaming has done me no good, and I'm hoarse," Miranda replied. The Adderhead turned around, reaching out and slapping her. She had to swallow a yelp, and blood rose to her mouth, giving the Adderhead great pleasure.

"You know, the more you hit me, the harder it is for me to talk," Miranda gasped when she'd recovered her speech.

"Is that so?" The Adderhead's eyebrows rose over his lizard-like eyes. "Well, maybe we should hit your daughter instead." A little girl with porcelain features and dark curly hair was dragged in by her wrist. Her eyes were wide, and she looked at her mother in terror. The Adderhead smiled in a twisted way, taking in Miranda's horrified expression. She looked at him with wide eyes.

"You… don't you dare touch her…" she whispered in a trembling voice.

"Why not? It's obviously the only way that you'll read." The Adderhead's voice was dangerously calm. "Then we can prove that you're a Silvertongue, right?"

"I will never read for you. If you lay a hand on my daughter, I'll cut my tongue out so that I can't read for you." Miranda's voice was still trembling, but it was louder. The guard had let go of the little girl, and she was standing there, shaking, eyes darting nervously. Miranda was looking around, too, gauging distances. Her daughter was fast, but could she make it to the entrance? There was only one way to find out…

"Angel, front entrance, NOW!" she yelled. Without a second thought, her daughter ran, and Miranda dropped to her knees in pain. The Adderhead had grabbed her by the hair, and was shaking her in anger. Despite the pain, she laughed. She'd seen her daughter running; she'd seen her get away. She knew Angelina Bryte was smart, knew she'd stay out of the Adderhead's grasp. Her baby was safe.

"You'll pay for that move," the Adderhead snarled at her. She winced as he jerked her around, but the physical pain couldn't drown out her joy. _Yes, I may pay for it,_ she thought grimly, _but my daughter won't. My baby won't._


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Angelina ran as fast as her small legs would carry her. She ran out of the castle, into the woods; fear made her heart beat faster, her blood pump thicker. Her mom had told her to run, so she ran, past trees as big as giants, past eyes flashing in the night, away from the sounds of the soldiers that cursed and yelled. She ran until she couldn't breathe anymore. A huge tree stood to her right, a hollow tree. She scrambled quickly inside. The sound of footsteps soon faded, but she still didn't climb out from her hiding space. Her heart was just slowing down to a normal pace when footsteps reached her ears. A small whimper escaped her throat, and the footsteps stopped in front of her tree. She pressed herself farther back, hoping not to be noticed.

"Hello, what's this?" A man bent down and looked into her hiding place. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, and his eyes were liquid obsidian. He smiled when he saw Angelina hiding in the tree.

"And what's your name?" he asked, crouching down in front of the tree. Angelina just stayed silent, wondering whether she could trust him or not. If only her mom was here; Miranda always knew who to trust, and was hardly ever wrong.

"Are you hungry?" the man asked when she didn't answer his question. After studying him for a while, she slowly nodded. "Do you want some food?" Again, she nodded. "Well, if you follow me, I can get you some food and warm clothes. Will you come out?" Slowly, Angelina approached the man. She climbed out and looked up at him. He held out his hand. She ignored it, thinking that she might not be able to make a quick getaway if he could hold her.

"You're a quiet thing, aren't you?" he asked, watching her. She shrugged, following him along as he walked. "Do you have a tongue to speak?" She nodded, sticking her tongue out to show that it was present. "Then why don't you talk?" Angelina remained silent. She didn't trust him, she was scared, and her mom had taught her to be more observant and give less information in moments like that. Her mom wasn't there to help her now, thought, and she had to do what Miranda had told her before. If she didn't… well, who knew what would happen? She certainly didn't.

"See that glow, over there?" The man pointed towards the horizon, where lights were burning in the dark. They flickered and faded, glowing like fire. Angelina nodded vigorously. "That's the camp of the strolling players. That's where we're staying."

The strolling players. Yes, Angelina had heard of them before. Her mother said that they were all very good at their art, that the women dressed in colored skirts and let their hair hang loose, that there were men who walked on ropes high above the ground, who breathed fire. She'd never seen a strolling player before, but she'd heard a couple of names. Cloud-Dancer and Sootbird were the only two she'd heard of, really, not counting some that had been spoken of in passing. Cloud-Dancer was said to be marvelous at his trade, one of the best tightrope walkers around, until he fell and landed badly on his leg. Sootbird, on the other hand, was the worst fire breather ever heard of, if the rumors she'd heard were to be believed. She was immediately apprehensive. The strolling players were a group of people she wasn't familiar with. Would she be safe here?

"Hey, the Prince is back!" a voice rang out once they got into viewing distance of the camp. A few men looked up from their bowls of food. They smiled welcomingly, looking curiously at Angelina. She hid behind the man who had brought her here; she guessed he was the Prince they spoke of.

"What do you have there, Prince?" another man asked, gesturing to Angelina. He had graying hair and wore clothes of blue. His left leg stuck out straight in front of him, though his right one was bent into a more normal-looking posture.

"Hey, Cloud-Dancer," the Prince greeted him. He looked over at Angelina, apparently evaluating her. "I found her hiding in a hollow tree from something. It was actually pretty close to the Castle of Night. I haven't been able to get a single word out of her, either. I brought her back to get her some food." He led her away from the others, to a quiet section of the tents where only a few people sat, eating.

"Stay here, I'll be back," he told her, walking away. He came back a little time later with a bowl of something steaming and a few guys following him. He gave her the soup and sat down.

"Hello, little girl," one man said, getting in her face. He was wearing a black and red garment, and his hair was blonde. She whimpered and tried to move away from her. "What's your name?"

"Sootbird, leave her alone. You're scaring her out of her wits," another man, wearing similar clothing, snapped at the man. Sootbird straightened up and glared over at him.

"Well, if you're so good with kids, you get her to talk," he growled. The first returned the glare with a level, annoyed look. Then he crouched down where he was, smiling at Angelina. His hair was red, flickering in the firelight behind him, and he had three silvery scars across his face. He put his hands in front of his mouth and muttered something that sounded like the crackling of fire. Suddenly, a spark jumped from his hand, gold and beautiful. A flower of flame bloomed where it hit the ground. Angelina's eyes grew wide, and she reached out to touch it.

"No, don't touch that," the man said, taking her hand and keeping it away from the fire. She looked up at him with eyes of wonder.

"Look at how she watches you, Dustfinger!" Cloud-Dancer exclaimed. "As if you're some sort of magician." Dustfinger smiled a quirky smile, standing up. Angelina reached out and grabbed his robes.

"Yes?" he asked, looking down at the little girl with black hair and porcelain features. She tugged on his robe, motioning to the ground beside her. His eyebrows rose, but he sat down beside her all the same.

"Look at that," the Prince said. "She must like you. The whole time that I tried to get anything out of her, she was looking at me like I might try to hurt her. Why don't you try getting her to talk?" Dustfinger apparently ignored his remark, but was watching the little girl. She had climbed into his lap and was eating her soup there happily. Once it was finished, she set down the bowl beside her and put her head on his chest, closing her eyes. A small yawn escaped her throat.

"She'll talk when she's good and ready," he said, looking at the Prince. "Things like that take time, you know." When he looked back down at her, she was peacefully asleep. He couldn't help thinking how much she reminded him of a child that he'd known long ago, before the fever had taken her, her sister, and their mother. A child that had been as much his flesh and blood as her mother's…

"What are we doing tomorrow?" he asked, looking up at the others. He made no move to get the girl off of his lap.

"We're collecting firewood, maybe heading to Ombra for a while to earn something," the Black Prince said. "Why?"

"Just curious," Dustfinger said. He stretched and got up, setting the little girl down and turning away. Before he walked off, though, he shrugged off his jacket and laid it over her. Without explaining it to the others, he headed off towards where he would sleep for the night, leaving a little girl in a peaceful dream.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When Angelina woke up, she was surprised to find a stranger's jacket covering her. She yelped and sat up, looking around and not recognizing where she was. Where were her mom and the Adderhead, who'd held her captive for so long? When she finally remembered where she was, she was very sad. She looked around for the man she'd seen the night before, who'd made the fire flower for her.

"…Well, why can't we take her with us? It's just gathering firewood—" Dustfinger trailed off when the little girl approached him. He still didn't know her name. "Hey there," he said to her, smiling in his mysterious way. She looked up at him with big, brown eyes. It would appear that he'd earned some favor with her after making the fire flower. "How are you? Hungry?" She nodded. "What do you want to eat?" The only answer was a shrug. "How about some soup?" Another nod. He sat back, rubbing his hand over his face. This girl was going to be harder to get to speak then he'd thought. He got up and went to grab her some soup. She followed him.

"Here," he said when he turned around to find her standing there. "Watch out, it's hot." He held out the bowl of soup, which she took from him and put to her lips. A small cry escaped her lips as it scalded her tongue. She stuck it out and looked at the end where it was burned, and then looked up at him with a bewildered expression. It took everything in his power not to laugh.

"Here," he said, holding out his gourd of water to her. She took it and took a sip to cool her tongue before giving it back. She glared at him with an expression that Dustfinger recognized. One of his daughters used to look at him like that, every time that he made a flaming flower and she burned her finger on it, despite his warnings. She used to glare at him like that for hours, until he finally apologized. The memory alone made him feel the gaping wound in his chest open up, the very wound he'd tried to heal ever since his family was taken with fever. He bent his head and wiped his eyes, thankful for the cover his long hair provided from the other men.

"Dustfinger, are you coming?" The Black Prince stood at the mouth of the cave, looking at his best friend. Dustfinger looked up at him.

"Yeah, I'm coming," he said, getting up to leave. The little girl stood up, too, but he smiled sadly at her. "No," he said. "You've got to stay here. I'll be back soon, I promise." She looked up at him with such a heartbroken look that, for a second, he nearly told the Prince to go on without him. _By the fire of the elves, look at yourself_, he thought angrily. _The girl gives you one look and you want to bend over backwards for her, and you don't even know her. Get a hold of yourself, Dustfinger!_ He smiled kindly at her, and then turned his back on her, walking towards the Black Prince.

"Let's go," he said, slinging his ever-present backpack over his shoulder. His martin, Gwin, chattered and climbed up onto Dustfinger's shoulder, probably hoping for food. He threw one glance back over his shoulder at the girl, and then he was gone.

Angelina stared after the man, Dustfinger. He'd left her. _Left_ her! The mere thought of it made her want to cry, though she had no idea why. Her mom had told her often to trust her instincts about people. She knew that this man would keep her safe, even if he didn't know her. Something about the way he acted assured her that he was the sort of person that had a soft heart, even if it took a while to get to it. Maybe it was just the fact that he was exactly how she'd always imagined her father; mysterious to a point, but with an open heart towards young girls like herself. She knew for a fact that he did have an open heart towards her, because he wouldn't have let her fall asleep in his lap the night before. Sighing, she glared out where he'd disappeared. She still couldn't believe that he'd just left her. People were so mean.

"Hello," a little girl said, coming up to her. She turned, silently, and looked at her. "I'm Toria. Do you like dolls?" Angelina nodded, still studying the girl. She had fair hair that was braided in cornrows, and pretty, dark eyes. She held up two corn-husk dolls, obviously handmade. "Do you want to play with me?" Angelina shrugged. The little girl took her hand and dragged her away to another part of the cave, telling her what the doll's name was, the 'right' way to hold it, and explaining how they'd play the game.

"You hold the doll and make him go where I tell you. I'll tell the story, but you just make the doll move," Toria said. Angelina nodded, although she didn't think that sounded like too much fun for her. She crouched down in the dirt, doing as she was told and acting out the story of two people who loved each other very much.

Angelina played with Toria for hours, constantly throwing glances over towards the cave entrances. A few people asked her who she was waiting for, but she simply shrugged and didn't answer.

It was late in the day when Dustfinger, the Prince, and Cloud-Dancer finally came back from hunting firewood. Dustfinger had just about enough time to set down his share of wood before the little girl was clinging to his leg. He looked down at her and smiled.

"I see you missed me," he said, pushing her gently away from his legs. She clung to them again, looking up at him with a very innocent expression. Sitting down, he once again tried to push her off of his legs. Letting go, she moved to a more preferable spot; his lap. She put her head on his shoulder like one of his daughters would have a long time ago, except she was much more silent than any of his daughters had ever been. She was staring into the fire, and for a moment he wondered what this little girl who couldn't speak was seeing in its depths. It certainly couldn't be anything worse than what he saw when he looked; a sickly woman, two dead children, tears of pain and tears of fear. No, nothing that this little girl had seen could be worse than that, and he hoped it stayed that way.

"Are you hungry again?" he asked, because it was around lunch time, and the girl didn't look like she'd eaten even a bite since he'd left. She shrugged, but her stomach rumbled, and that was enough of an answer for him. Getting up, he fixed her a small portion of food, just as much as he had to spare. He held out the food to her, and she took it willingly before clambering into his lap again as he sat down.

"Seems to me that the child likes you," the Prince said, sitting down beside Dustfinger.

"Yeah, she does," he said, stroking her hair back. The Prince looked at him with a mild expression.

"You seem to be attached to the child, too," he continued. Dustfinger shot him a wry smile.

"What did you expect? You know how soft my foolish heart can be," he said. The Prince laughed, reaching up and stroking his bear's head as he thought.

"Yes, that is true," he agreed. "I can't help but think, though, that the girl might have some family to return to."

"Yes," Dustfinger said in an evasive tone of voice. "I know this."

"Are you sure that it's wise to…" The Prince didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to. Dustfinger sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back. After a while, his eyes opened and he scrutinized the ceiling of the cave.

"Is it wise for me to let the little tyke get close to me?" he finished the Prince's sentence. "No, it probably isn't. Am I still going to do it?"

"Yes, even though you'll be hurting for years and years afterwards," the Prince said. "You've always been funny like that, Dustfinger. I don't think that I'll ever understand why you open your heart for breaking."

"I don't. That's the problem," Dustfinger said, sitting up and stroking the girl's hair again. "The more I try not to get hurt, the harder it is to stay away from people like this one." He looked up at the ceiling again, as if the answer to himself lie in the scratches and stalactites above him. _Well, Dustfinger, if that isn't the story of your life, then what is?_


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Angelina woke up because of a dream. Her small squeak made several of the kids within hearing range of her stir, but they soon drifted back to sleep. She crawled over to where Dustfinger was and shook him gently.

"Dustfinger!"

The ginger haired man sat up in alarm. "Did you just talk?" He stared at her in shock as she clung to his arm.

"Nightmare," she whimpered, burying her face in his jacket. "Scary." Dustfinger gently stroked her hair.

"What was it about?"

"My mommy. The Adderhead." Angelina kept her voice quiet so that she didn't wake anyone else.

"The Adderhea—Why were you dreaming about him?"

"He has my mommy."

Dustfinger's voice rose with alarm. "What do you mean, he has your mom?" Angelina put her finger to her lips.

"He has my mommy," she repeated. "He wants her to read to him." Dustfinger looked bewildered.

"What do you mean, he wants her to read to him?"

"Mommy can make pictures," Angelina said.

"What?"

"Mommy can make pictures. She can make them _move_. Breathe."

Dustfinger stared at the small girl, keeping his face in a perfect mask. The little girl... she couldn't be saying that her mother was a Silvertongue? The last time that he'd dealt with a Silvertongue, he had lost his family to a sickness that the daughter had accidentally brought around.

"What do you mean?" he asked after a moment. "You mean that she can make words come to life?"

"Yes. She reads them, and they move."

Dustfinger ran his hands through his hair.

"You're upset." The girl sounded concerned. "Why are you upset?"

"No reason," Dustfinger assured her. "Go back to sleep, girl."

"Angelina."

"What?"

"My name. Angelina." She hugged Dustfinger. "I'm scared."

Dustfinger found himself hugging her back. "It'll be okay." He stroked Angelina's hair. "It'll be fine."

**I am **_**so**_** sorry for not posting lately. I just haven't been motivated, to be honest. I'm sorry that this is such a short chapter as well, but I promise the next one will be up within a few days, and I'll be back on track from there. Don't eat me! *holds up stick to ward off rabid, non-existent fans***


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dustfinger had barely dozed off for a second time when the Prince awoke him. He rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly and being sure to not disturb the small, dark haired figure curled next to him.

"Come walking with me. There are matters to discuss."

Quietly, Dustfinger stood, stretching, and followed his black friend. Once they got outside of the camp, he crossed his arms. "What's wrong?"

"I heard the child speak with you last night," the Prince said, staring out into the distance. It always unnerved Dustfinger when he did that—it was as if the man were seeing something that he couldn't, something sad and painful. Past memories, perhaps? "You know what it means, if the child's mother is really being held by the Adderhead."

"We've got to go and get her," Dustfinger said. "Especially if she is really a Silvertongue."

The Black Prince nodded in agreement, bracing himself to deliver some bad news. "Dustfinger?"

"What?" Dustfinger swallowed, not liking the tone of his voice. Something bad was about to be said.

"I went and scouted the Adderhead's castle," Prince said. "And... someone is going to have to go inside the walls. It would be the only chance of getting her out."

"So, gather up men to break in!" Dustfinger said, a little too loudly. "We have enough, don't we?"

"No, Dustfinger." His eyes flashed with sympathy for his friend. "We need someone to be captured. Someone whose fingers are quick with locks."

Dustfinger shook his head as the words settled in his head and heart. "Don't do this to me, Prince. Don't do this to me."

"Dustfinger..." Now the Prince was using the same tone that many hunters used when approaching a wounded animal. "Dustfinger, you know it has to be you."

"No! I won't do it!" Dustfinger's voice rose to a shout. "Let the woman die in the dungeons of the Castle of Night! I'm not turning myself over to the clutches of a man like the Adderhead, by the fire of the elves, I'll—"

The sound of a small whimper behind him cut through his fear and made him stop speaking. Spinning around, he saw Angelina standing a little ways off, tears falling down her face. No doubt she had followed the two adults out of the camp and had heard the whole conversation. No doubt even her five-year-old mind could understand what Dustfinger's refusal to go to the Castle of Night meant for her mother. No doubt any hope and trust she'd held in Dustfinger had shattered in the early morning air that hung so quietly between them.

It all suddenly became too much for Dustfinger. Before the tears started flowing, he took off at a sprint away from the camp, away from the Prince and his terrifying idea. Most importantly, he ran away from the piercing blue eyes that followed his back all the way to the forest.

He knew he'd never entirely escape that gaze again.


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey, you guys! Heart here, posting a new update (and replacing all previous chapters with typo-free *hopefully*, slightly corrected versions of themselves). I have one request for any reader out there: I need **_**feedback**_**. Reviews. I mean, you guys favoriting my stories is great and everything (it really is, and I love y'all for it), but I would like to **_**read**_** what you think so that I can improve the story for y'all. **

**Oh, by the **_**way**_**, I need suggestions for a title for the story. "Angelina's Story" isn't working for me.**

**Thank you and happy reading!**

Angelina had found a lonely corner and curled up in it, staring at the opposite wall. He wasn't going to help. He didn't want to help Momma. Dustfinger wasn't to be trusted.

"I want my momma," she whimpered, burying her face in her hands and beginning to cry. "I want my momma."

A shadow crossed over her and she looked up miserably. The Black Prince sat down next to her, his kind eyes concerned.

"He didn't mean it like that, you know," he said quietly, not really looking at Angelina. "Dustfinger is... strange."

"He'll let mommy die," Angelina whimpered quietly. "He doesn't care."

The Prince turned to look at her. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that," he replied thoughtfully. "He does care. He's just... scared."

Angelina looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "B-big boys don't get scared, though," she mumbled, her voice more of a question than a statement.

He laughed at her, shaking his head. "Big boys get scared more often than you give us credit for, child." The smile on his face faltered a little bit, and he patted her on the back. "Much more often than you give us credit for."

Dustfinger wasn't sure of many things, but he was sure of this; he was _not_ going to go into the Adderhead's castle, not for the sake of that girl, or her mom, or any other human being in the Inkworld.

_But if you don't_, said a quiet voice in his head, _then how are you going to escape those eyes?_

"Shut up," he growled at the voice. "Doesn't matter." But it really did matter, he admitted. There was no way that he was going to ever be able to escape those eyes again. "It doesn't matter," he repeated, sitting down with his back against the tree and closing his eyes. "They'll find someone else."

Angelina's wounded face stared at him from behind his eyelids. He swore quietly, shooting onto his feet and beginning to pace.

He had two options, really. He could go back, surrender himself and be captured by the Adderhead to save Angelina's mother. He was the person with the quickest hands and the best ability to pick locks. He was the only one who could do what the Prince needed him to do. He was also scared.

His second option was the coward's option. He could stay away and wait for all of this to blow over. No doubt the Adderhead would kill the girl's mom after a while. He could come back then and act like nothing had happened. He could ignore Angelina and go on like life had never changed. Eventually, he would learn to forget those eyes.

As he paced, he realized with a sense of dread that there was really only one choice. There had only been one choice to begin with.

He had to go back. Frustrated, he pushed his hair out of his face and leaned against the tree again.

"I don't want to do this," he muttered to the air. "I don't want to go into old Adder's hideout."

_But you have to_, that annoying little voice in the back of his mind whispered. _You'll never be able to escape those eyes, Dustfinger_.

"I know," he muttered, turning to head back towards the camp. "I know."

The Prince looked up from where he sat with Angelina, who had fallen asleep clutching his arm. There was some sort of commotion up at the entrance of the cave. Trying his best to not disturb the child's slumber, he worked his arm out of her grip and stood to go see what it was.

Dustfinger stood in the cavern's entrance, his head ducked a little bit. He'd always been comparable to a kicked puppy in the Prince's eyes, and this sign of submission did much to validate the image.

"I knew you'd be back," he said with a wry smile, crossing his arms to look at the ginger haired man.

Dustfinger's scarred face lifted to look at him properly. It bore his normal smile, with only a hint of apology added. "I've come to learn that I tend to be very predictable," he admitted. "Is Angelina still here?"

"The girl?" When Dustfinger nodded, the Prince gestured towards the back of the cave. "She's napping right now."

Dustfinger nodded again, pushing his hair back from his face. "Is she mad at me?"

"I don't know," the Black Prince admitted. "She seemed more upset and scared than angry—"

"Dustfinger?" It was amazing, really, how completely the small voice cut through the Prince's sentence, but Dustfinger's gaze snapped to Angelina immediately.

She stood, looking tousled and sleepy. It was obvious that she'd just woken, but her eyes were alert and watery as she stared at Dustfinger.

"Hey," he said, taking a step towards her. She took two steps back, shaking her head.

"No," she whimpered. "You won't help mommy." The accusation in her voice practically shattered Dustfinger's heart.

Sighing, he kneeled down, not bothering to hide the sorrow and agony in his eyes. "Angelina, come here," he begged. When she shook her head, he rubbed his face with one hand and sighed again. "Okay, don't come here, then. Do what you want. But I am going to help your mom."

Angelina took a few steps forward. "You promise?" she asked quietly, her eyes still watering. A tear fell down her cheek.

Dustfinger nodded. "Yeah. I promise."

She moved forward then, wrapping her small arms around him and burying her face in his stomach. "I'm scared, Dustfinger."

He stroked her hair soothingly. "It's going to be okay, kid, I promise. It's gonna be alright."

And as he spoke the promise, he knew that he would have to keep it. For this little girl, he would have to make everything okay.


End file.
